Page 34 of Mistletoe and Magic

"Then let's say it's a sweet collaboration," he suggested, his voice dropping to a husky whisper as he stepped closer. The air between them crackled with electricity, charged with the potential of what lay unspoken.

"Best kind," Felicity agreed, her breath hitching slightly as she lifted her gaze to meet his.

In that moment, surrounded by the pulse of Christmas Valley's newfound heartbeat, Jace knew they were on the cusp of something extraordinary. And as he accepted a cupcake from Felicity's tray—her fingertips brushing against his—it wasn't just the sugar that sent a shiver down his spine, but the thrilling realization that they were creating more than just a legacy for the lodge.

They were weaving a tale of romance that was theirs alone to tell.

Jace inhaled deeply, the crisp mountain air mingling with the rich aromas of mulled wine and hot apple cider that seemed to permeate Christmas Valley. The once subdued village square now thrummed with life, a vibrant tapestry woven from the threads of laughter, music, and community spirit. Elders recounted tales by the fireside, children danced around the giant spruce twinkling with lights, and couples found warmth in each other's embrace against the winter chill.

"Can you believe this, Jace?" Felicity stood beside him, her cheeks rosy from the cold, eyes alight with wonder as she gazed at the scene before them.

"Believe it? I'm living it, thanks to this town—and to you," Jace replied, his tone warm with gratitude. He watched as she wrapped her hands around a steaming cup, the steam rising above the rim.

"Ah, but we all came together for the Northwind," she said. "It's like we've all been enchanted, dreaming the same dream."

"An enchantment," he mused, allowing himself to revel in the momentary peace, "fueled by shared passion and a dash of your treats, no doubt."

Felicity’s laugh tinkled through the air, harmonizing with the melodic strains of a violin nearby. For a moment, the weight of responsibility lifted from Jace's shoulders, carried away on the wings of camaraderie and collective endeavor.

But just as quickly as hope had soared, it plummeted when Elliott Snow approached, carrying news that chilled deeper than the winter frost. "Jace, I'm sorry to bring this up now, but I just heard something I think you need to know." Elliott's usual calm was tinged with an urgency he reserved only for gossip he thought he was the only one privy to.

"What’s up?" Jace frowned, the muscles in his jaw tensing, the knot of concern returning.

"People are talking at the bank. Candace Prescott," Elliott said, his voice low. "She's bought the note for the lodge. You could lose everything if you can’t pay her off."

Jace nodded, perversely pleased that this was news he already had. “I heard. She’s trying to force my hand and keep the bank from being able to do anything about it, but there’s no way I’m letting everything everybody has done go for naught. If I have to, I’ll make an interim deal with a group of vulture investors. Not ideal, but it’s not just me who will lose if Sapphire takes over.”

“Jace, I’d hate to see you have to do that.”

A heavy silence fell over the trio, the revelry around them suddenly distant. The threat loomed large, a specter threatening to extinguish the fiery determination they'd stoked within the community.

"It wouldn’t be my first choice, but there’s no way Prescott’s company is going to gobble up the lodge and then the town," Jace said after a long pause, his voice steady despite the turmoil raging inside. "No one said this was going to be easy, but I’ll be damned if I let this town or my uncle down. He left me the Northwind, and I intend to leave it to those who come after me."

Felicity nodded, her expression resolute. "There’s been a real awakening in this town," she said. "We can't let it slide back into oblivion. Not now."

"Absolutely not," he agreed. They stood united, bound by a shared vision for the future of Christmas Valley—a future they were determined to fight for.

As the evening drew on, the scent of spices and optimism still lingered, but beneath it all was the undercurrent of an impending battle. For Jace, the lodge was more than just timber and stone; it was a legacy bestowed on him by all those who had come before. It had and would be again a beacon of hope, a sanctuary for kindred spirits. And he would not surrender it without a fight.

The door to the bank manager's office swung open with a solemn creak, and Jace stepped inside, the weight of uncertainty heavy on his broad shoulders. His heart pounded against his ribs like a trapped bird, yearning for freedom from the cage of dread that encased it. His eyes, usually alight with mischief and adventure, now mirrored the storm clouds gathering over Christmas Valley.

"Jace," the bank manager began, shuffling papers on his desk as if they were shields against the discomfort of the conversation to come. "I wish I had better news, but Candace Prescott has been quite... insistent."

"Let's hear it," Jace said, his voice betraying none of the trepidation that sent a shiver up his spine. He stood tall, the muscles in his jaw working subtly as he braced for the impact of the manager's words.

"Her final offer," the manager pushed a document across the polished mahogany surface towards Jace, "is less than generous. She knows she’s got you up against the ropes. She wants the lodge, and she's not used to hearing people say no."

Jace's fingers brushed against the paper, the tangible proof of his impending loss sending a jolt through him. He leaned forward, scanning the numbers that seemed to dance mockingly before his eyes. The lodge was more than a business—it was where his heart had found solace, where his spirit had been reignited by the warmth of fireside gatherings and the laughter of newfound friends.

"Jace," the bank manager's tone softened ever so slightly, "I've seen you pour your heart and soul into that place. But if you can't make this balloon payment by the deadline, you'll lose everything. Perhaps it's time to consider selling."

“And the bank won’t change its mind?” he asked, knowing the answer.

“I’m afraid not. Jace, you need to consider accepting her offer.”

Jace looked at the piece of paper the manager slid over to him. “You’re right; I probably should.” The bank manager seemed to breathe a little easier. “But I’m not going to.” Jace picked up the offer and tore it in half once, and then a second time. “You tell Candace Prescott I told you where she could shove her offer.”

December thirty-first, one minute before midnight—the guillotine would be poised above his dreams, but he would be damned if he’d give Prescott the satisfaction of kneeling down and putting his head on the block.

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